A millionaire was driving his fiancée home when he suddenly saw his ex-wife standing beside a highway with two babies strapped against her chest.
“Grant, slow down.” Serena leaned across the dashboard, staring through the windshield.
“Wait… is that Laura?” Grant hit the brakes. Dust exploded around the Range Rover as he pulled onto the shoulder.
Then he saw her. Laura. The woman he had d. i. v. o. r. c. e. d almost a year earlier.
Except she looked nothing like the wife he remembered. Her clothes were faded.
Her shoes were nearly worn through. Her hair was tied into a messy knot, and exhaustion had hollowed out her face.
At her feet sat a plastic bag filled with crushed cans and empty bottles.
She was collecting recycling just to survive. But Grant barely noticed the bag.
Because Laura was carrying two babies. Twins. One against her chest. One against her side.
And when one of them lifted his face toward the SUV, Grant felt his stomach drop.
The forehead. The chin. The eyes. They looked disturbingly familiar. Serena gave a small laugh.
“Well,” she said, lowering the window, “I guess life finally caught up with her.”
Laura looked toward the car. Their eyes met. Grant expected anger. Instead, he saw something much harder to understand.
Pity. Serena reached into her purse, pulled out a fifty-dollar bill, crumpled it, and tossed it into the dirt beside Laura’s feet.
“For diapers,” she called. “Or formula. Whatever.” “Serena, stop.” But Laura never picked up the money.
She simply adjusted the babies against her body, lifted her bag of cans, and started walking away.
Grant reached for the door handle. Serena grabbed his arm. “Don’t embarrass yourself.
